


The Bodyguard

by Lithosaurus



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hawke Family Feels, Kirkwall politics, POV Sebastian, Red Hawke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-10-01 06:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17238974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithosaurus/pseuds/Lithosaurus
Summary: Attacked by the same mercenaries that killed his family, Sebastian finds allies in the Harimann family and the bodyguard they hire for his protection; a Ferelden-born daughter of a Kirkwall family named Hawke.





	1. Chapter 1

Sebastian desperately wished he had worn his armor or, at the very least, trousers. He was a representative of the Chantry and had worn his simple Brother’s habit expecting nothing more than handing out bean stew and bread to the refugees. He certainly hadn’t expected to be attacked by what looked to be a mercenary band in the courtyard or for some of those same refugees to leap to his defense.

He dodge a swing of a sword from one of the three men cornering him and landed a slash across the attacker’s arm arm. It left a mark in the leather but nothing more. A belt knife wouldn’t do any good unless he hit skin. Behind them, he caught a glimpse of a woman in a Fereldan officer’s uniform slam a swordman into the path of a Templar’s sword. A lean faced girl smacked another across the ribs with a walking staff and the mercenary was knocked clean off his feet. A mabari at her heels dissuaded anyone from trying to take her by surprise. Hadn’t there been another refugee?

“I see those dancing lessons-”  The mercenary’s comment was cut short with a blade through his chest. Sebastian caught his distracted companion in the her neck and the third just managed to parry another blow. The mercenary in front of him collapsed. Her blood was on his hands but he couldn’t pay attention to the woman dying at his feet; the Fereldan in front of him had his full attention.

She swung two shortswords like they were exenstions of her own arms. The mercenary desperately tried to block her strikes with his sword and buckler as he retreated backwards from her flurry of blows. With one last last lunge, she brought both swords down with an overhand blow. He caught them with his shield but it had left him exposed. She caught his foot with her own and  swept it out from underneath him. He hit the ground and his neck was opened before he could even catch his breath.

“Captain Ewald!” A gaggle of Templars rushed into the courtyard.

“About damn time!” The guard snapped. “What do you get paid for if you only show up after the fights are done?”

A fourth woman rushed to join his rescuers from her hiding spot behind one of the statues. She fretted over the two younger woman, seemingly out of habit.  Sebastian stepped over the corpse in front of him and approached them.

“Hello. May I ask for your names so I can thank your properly?”

“Manners? In Kirkwall? What a day.” The grey haird woman stepped forward to greet him with a warm smile. "I am Leandera Hawke née Amell. These are my daughters Mallory and Bethany and our dear friend Aveline Vallen. I haven’t heard an Starkhaven accent like yours since I moved away from the city. I must say, you have quite a familiar look. You wouldn’t happen to be one of Megan Vael’s sons would you? It has been years since I saw her.”

His smile tightened a little bit. “I would. I am Sebastian. A pleasure.” He bowed for them.

Beside Leandra, her daughter was watching something behind him. Her eyes widened a fraction and them she dove towards him. They hit the ground.

“Bethany! The archer!” Mallory barked. His field of view was obscured by her shoulder. There was a flash of light, a crunch of armor on armor, armor on stone and Sebastian’s memory grew very fuzzy.

-

Sebastian woke up in a fainting room with a splitting headache and a mouth that felt like it had been filled with sand. He sat up slowly and gingerly touched his head. His left temple was bruised and tender but nothing felt broken. In fact, for having faced a band of rogue mercenaries with nothing but a belt knife and a habit, he was feeling quite well. Of course, he had help. Leandra Amell and her daughter, he recalled. He racked his brain for anything information he could remember about the Amell family.

His mother had spoken about a match between one of his cousins and an Amell, if he remembered correctly. It hadn’t come to pass, however. Maybe that had something to do with why Leandra was consorting with Fereldan refugees and going by the last name of ‘Hawke’. Before Sebastian could spiral too far into baseless speculations, a maid entered with a basin of fresh water. A few minutes of questions later and he had a better idea of what had happened after the fight.

According to the maid, he had been knocked unconscious by accident and taken to the Harimann estate to recover. The city guard thought that the attackers were part of the same mercenary group that had killed his parents and, for whatever reason, were finally remembering the third Vael son. Leandra Hawke was having tea downstairs with Lady Johane at the moment, waiting for news of his recovery.

“Should I tell them you’ve woken up, Serah?”

“No, I’ll be down shortly.” Sebastian thanked and dismissed her. His room was thankfully stocked with a fresh change of clothes. It wasn’t quite his style and would be better suited for Brett Harimann’s broad shoulders but they fit well enough for tea.

When he arrived in the south parlor, he realized he should have asked more questions. It wasn’t just Lady Johane and Leandra in attendance. It was the whole of the Harimann clan and Leandra’s daughter Mallory to boot.

“Sebastian,” Lord Emrick greeted him with a fatherly smile. “so good yo see you back on your feet. I can’t imagine facing assassins in the Gallows of all places. Terrible, terrible. Come, sit.”

“Thank you, ser.” Sebastian took the offered seat next between Flora and Leandra.

“You have quite a bruise.” Flora leaned in to look at his temple. “Do you think it will scar?”

“No, it thankfully didn’t split the skin.” She was so close he could smell her floral perfum. On his other side, Leandra was notably underdressed for such an occasion. She had on a nice shawl that was absent earlier but it didn’t do much to hide her threadbare skirts or her worn, utilitarian boots. At least she had put in some effort. Mallory was still in her worn leather armor. The only change Sebastian could see was that she no longer had bloody hands from stabbing a man in the back earlier.

“Mallory is quite sorry about that.” Leandra said.

Her daughter shrugged. “Better than an arrow in the back.”

Sebastian laughed. “I agree. I think I was in the process of thanking you for saving my life when you saved my life.”

It managed to get a twitch of her lip out of it.

“You mentioned working in the Fereldan army.” Lady Johane stole the directiong of the conversation. “I thought that the army was fighting a darkspawn incursion.”

“Not an incursion. A Blight.” Mallory corrected her.

“Truly? I must say we don’t get much of darkspawn here. Are you certain?”

Leandra laid a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Yes, Lady Johane. After the defeat at Ostagar, most of Mallory’s company of volunteers was gone. The horde reached our own home so we were forced to move on.”

“And Mallory came with you.”

“Because my term of service was up.” Mallory said sharply.

“Yes, many of our countrymen were forced to flee.” Leandra restated. “Lord Emrick mentioned that you were at the Gallows to help the refugees, Sebastian?”

Sebastian nodded. “I am a dedicate in the Chantry here. The refugees seemed most in need of our charity at the moment.”

“You’re so generous, Sebastian.” Flora cooed. “Don’t you agree, Brett?” She nudged her brother with an elbow. Brett quickly swallowed his finger sandwich and nodded.

Lady Johane glared at her son. “Generosity set aside, this does raise a rather sticky issue. If the people responsible for the attack against your family are now targeting you, the Chantry cannot be the safest place for you.”

“The Chantry is guarded by Templars.” Sebastian brushed off her concern.

“So was the Gallows.” Mallory muttered. Leandra’s polite smile grew a degree more tight.

Lady Johane smiled kindly at him. “And you shall stay sequestered in the Chantry until the ones responsible are caught? Sebastian, you are far too devoted to the tenet of Charity to remain in silent contemplation or keeping to polishing relics for the rest of your life.”

“What are you getting at, Johane?” Lord Emerick asked.

“I was going to suggest that we host Sebastian here until a full investigation can be completed. The City Guard patrol Hightown well and we have our own security measures.”

“I could not impose upon you, Lady Johane.” Sebastian said. “And wouldn’t I be trading one gilded prison for another?”

“Nonsense.” Johane waved off the joke. “The Vaels and the Harriman’s go back to the Tower Age. Protecting the last member of the true Vael line would be an honor. A guard could be arranged. Perhaps- Serah Hawke, you have already proven yourself an able swordswoman and a keen eye. Would you be willing to take on a new position?”

Mallory froze with her tea cup at her mouth. She calmly set it back down in her saucer and gave Lady Johane another look over.

“I assume that payement would be involved. House Amell is a bit short on historic honor at the moment.”

“Of course,” Lord Emerick took over. “What do you think, Johane? Five silver a week as a starting point? I’ll have my solicitor draft a contract.”

Sebastian nearly winced. Five silver was a fraction of what a novice guardsman earned. Mallory seemed to realize this and Leandra’s chin rose a few degrees.

“I believe you mentioned a sister.” Lady Johane said. “If we manage to secure her entry into the city would that suffice?”

“Bethany and Aveline, both.” Mallory insisted. “Do we shake on things in the Free Marches or is that saved for after the contracts are signed?”

“There are some that prefer a firm handshake at their conclusion of their business.” Lord Emerick took control back from his daughter. “But that will come after the contract. Which we sign in ink, not blood. Though I’m assuming that part of Fereldan business practices are mainly hearsay!”

He chuckled and the rest of his family joined him. Leandra even tittered along and Sebastian gave a sufficiently pleased exhale to seem polite. Mallory smiled with her lips but not her eyes.

-

Hightown was having a pleasant if chilly morning. Sebastian woke early on Sunday and began to prepare for the day. He pulled on his habit and tied its bright red sash around his waist. It was chilly enough to wear his matching lambswool gloves but he abstained. Wearing gloves while the refugees froze in the cold dock yards of the Gallows seemed cruel. Warm porridge and donated blankets could only do so much for people who had lost every bit of clothing that wasn’t currently on their back.

From the sideroom connected to his quarters, he heard a soft footfall. Hawke was waiting for him in her armor. Between her dark hair and brown leathers, she cameoflauged rather well with the dimly lit room. The grips of her two short swords peeked up behind her shoulders like folded wings. Between them, the sharp nose, and the piercing stare, she lived up to her name very well.

“Ready?” She asked.

“Not as ready as you, apparently.” He smiled at her. She did not return it.

After a quick breakfast, the two left the Harriman estate. The sun was just beginning to dawn earlier and earlier but the streets were still largely shadowed and coated in ice. Hawke remained a pace behind him to his left as they walked silently. It wasn’t until they reached their ferry to the Gallows that she spoke.

“Given the choice between facing the Blight again or living the rest of my life in that place, I know what I would choose.”

“Grand Cleric Elthina is working with the council of Lowtown to set up an overflow camp in one of the vacant mineshafts. The refugees won’t be here much longer.” Sebastian mentioned. He wasn’t sure why. She had been there when he spoke with Elthina regarding the matter.

“Arguably a preferable location. But I wasn’t talking about the refugees.”

Why did he keep getting the impression she was testing him? Why did he feel like he’d failed when took too long to answer.

Hawke stayed his silent shadow as he walked among the refugees. He offered prayers and led a recitation of the Canticle of Exaltations. A dying woman asked for him to take her final confessions. Hawke left to give them some privacy and he realized that it was the first time all morning that she hadn’t been directly behind him.

As the sun set, they climbed the worn steps from the docks to the Knight Commander’s office. They passed through the same courtyard where they had first met. A few rusty brown flag stones still showed where their encounter had gone down.

“Huh, would’a look at that?” Hawke laughed. “There’s a knick in this pillar. I hadn’t realized Aveline hit them that hard.”

Sebastian let her take them on a short detour to the pillar. He ran a hand over the fractured corner. The stone was old and weathered. He could see how an armored shoulder could chip it. His memory was a bit fuzy but he could remember Mallory yelling about an archer. She had tackled him and Aveline had charged. But how could he remember that if his bruised head was from striking the ground.

“You alright?” Hawke asked.

“Just a bad memory.” He shrugged. Trying to remember how it all panned out made him a bit dizzy. Hawke had tackled him, Aveline had charged, but the archer had hit the wall before that and he was still conscious when that happened.

Then he remembered a slight warp in the light. It could have just been a reflection off armor if it hadn’t been so overcast that day. No, he remembering a beam of warped light that had led back to Bethany Hawke, who carried a staff. He also remembered the look of realization on Mallory’s face when she saw where he was looking and her elbow connecting with his temple.

Mallory Hawke had knocked him unconscious with enough force to blur his memories because he had seen that her sister was a mage. Mallory Hawke had also stabbed a man to death before she even knew why he was fighting. This was the woman who had hardly let him out of her sight since and had agreed to work for a pittance for that right.

“You sure? You look a bit pale.”

Sebastian nodded mutely.

He was terrible conversation in their tea with Knight Commander Meredith. His possibly impending death was distracting. Hawke tried to fill in the gaps but it was still mostly awkward silence while they finished their single cup. Knight Captain Roget escorted them back to the docks. He only took one or two wrong turns. The batty man really should have retired by now, even though he didn’t look that old. When they returned to the Harriman estate, Sebastian dismissed Hawke for the rest of the day. Monday’s were her day off and he could spend the next few hours indoors.

Sebastian made himself a nice mug of cinnamon milk and stared into his fireplace for a long while, wanting desperately to get something harder. The maid came by to put a bedwarmer between his sheets and asked if he was okay. He assured her he was just lost in his thoughts.

For all that they had hardly been out of each other’s sight for the last week, he realized he knew very little about the woman paid to protect him. She was Fereldan, had a sister and a friend named Aveline. Her mother was the only daughter of the disgraced House Amell. Brett had gone looking for gossip the moment Leandra had left the Harimann manor. Evidentally, twenty odd years prior, she had run off with some Fereldan with hardly a second glance. House Amell, who had already gained ill-repute when Lord Amell’s sister gave birth to her third mage-child quickly went down hill. Leandra’s brother, Gamlen, became the head of the family four years later and promptly ran one of the oldest houses of Kirkwall into the ground. Rumors were flying from the minute the name Amell was spoken and Sebastian didn’t believe a one.

Aside from what he knew of her house, he knew that Hawke was deadly fast with her swords, apparently didn’t sleep, and complained about missing her pet dog. She truly was Ferelden. One of his candles guttered out. Sebastian rumbed his eyes and began to change into his bedclothes. When he woke that Monday morning, he had an idea of a plan.

Tuesday came with what was hopefully the last snow of the season. Hawke arrived bright and early. Sebastian was eating breakfast when she arrived and invited her to join him. She lifted a brow at the informality but joined him just the same.

Following the adequate niceties, Sebastian began;

“How are you mother and sister settling in to Kirkwall?”

Hawke shrugged. “Bethany better than Mother. We’re not quite in Amell estate like she expected.”

Sebastian had seen the husk of the old place. It sat on the same courtyard as the Viscount’s Keep along with several other ancient houses of Kirkwall.

“Has she reconnected with many of her friend here?”

“A few. Strangely, many seem to not recognize her.”

Sebastian nodded in sympathy. He might have to try a more direct route.

“Friends that outlast power are a rare find. I’m deeply grateful that the Harimanns have taken me in after my family’s death. You still have family in Kirkwall, correct?”

“Our Uncle Gamlen. I think an aunt of ours moved to Tantervale. Amell hardly means wealth or power in this Age. Why the sudden interest?”

“Well, if I’m being fully honest, I suspect we both know that the scullery maids get five silvers a week in Hightown. But you agreed on the condition that your family entered the city. I assume they meant a great deal to you but you hardly talk of them. For all that you’re my new shadow, I barely know you. I figured your family would be a good place to start.”

“You could have asked.”

“I grew up in the ruling family of Starkhaven. In that ring of power, what you want is never simply stated. It gives too much leverage.”

“And which ring are we in now, Vael?”

Sebastian and Hawke both watched the other from across the table. After a long moment, he smiled cheerfully.

“Hawke, I’m in the ring of power where I’m nothing but a Chantry brother but still have assassins after my head. You can understand why I would want to know a few details about the woman hired to protect me.”

Hawke smiled back, in a far less friendly manner. “You told me what you want; let me return the favor. I want my family to be safe. Safety comes with money, status, and power. I suspect you know something of that truth.”

“Are you truly the daughter of Leandra Amell or was the name just a foot in the door.”

“Truly. And I intend to make the most of that name.”

“Because playing nice with one of the most influential families in Kirkwall will help. I see.”

Hawke crossed her arms over her chest.

“Thank you for your honesty, Messere Hawke.” Sebastian said, honestly. “Now, Lord Ruxton and I are going to meet one of the Merchant Guild’s representatives for a brunch. We’ll be leaving in a half hour.”

“Then why are we eating breakfast?”

“Dwarves are notoriously strict about letting ‘the help’ eat at the table. And I can’t stand lichen bread. Eat up.”

-

For all that she still offered next to no personal information, Sebastian felt as if he had finally met Mallory Hawke. Now, he began to notice what details she did volunteer. She turned down green tea but accept black. She would sometimes make meaningful eyecontact with him when Brett said something especially telling of his wealthy upbringing. She preferred leather to mail and red over any other color. He couldn’t help but think that it looked very nice with her fair skin and jet black hair. But maybe that was because he was predisposed to like the colors of house Vael.

Regardless, he quickly learned to trust her judgement and to expect the sense of security that she brought. There was something reliving about a woman who showed her cards early and made no overture of politics. So, when she came to him with a request of her own, he had to agree.


	2. Chapter 2

“This is it?” He asked.

“This is it.” Hawke nodded. In front of them, an nondescript doorway blended in with the brown walls of Darktown. Beyond it was an entrance to the Amell family mansion’s cellars. They were near enough to an airvent that they had fresh air and light to see by. Sebastian didn’t look forward to pressing on to where both of those were in short supply.

“Looks like a deathtrap. Is this what the whole city is built on?” Aveline said. Next to her, Bethany fiddled with her spear.

“Well, it’s not getting any more stable with us standing here.” Hawke pushed ahead and began to work on the lock.

She had briefed him over a mug of intriguingly bad ale in a tavern not far from her uncle’s house. Apparently, Gamlen had been suspiciously vague about the will detailing the inheritance he’d squandered. The documents were still in the abandoned Amell estate which was conveniently filled with a slaving operation so there was no way for him to get it back. Mallory had other ideas.

The door swung open with a screech of rusted metal and the Hawke sisters led the way. Aveline hung back a moment to sigh then followed. Sebastian readjusted his grip on the shortbow she lent him and finally entered.

It was close and dark with the musty smell of old rot and body odor covering everything like a damp blanket. Bethany lit a lantern and hung it from the tip of her staff. It’s light was unusually clear and bright for the Hawke’s usual pay range so it must have been magicked somehow. He wondered if Aveline knew about the apostacy as well.

His question was answered a few minutes later when the mansion’s new residents introduced themselves. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aveline duck so Bethany could strike an attacker with a barely concealed burst of ice. He landed an arrow in the chest of a man bearing down on Mallory and focused on staying alive long enough to wonder later.

Slavers dead, will retrieved, and heartfelt conversation between sisters awkwardly listened to, they returned to Gameln’s house. Aveline was already nearly late for her rotation so he waited alone on the front step as a terse family meeting ensued loud enough to be heard outside.  The door slammed open and Hawke emerged looking like thunder.

“Maker’s ass I need a drink. Come on.” She stormed off down the street. He followed after an awkward beat.

She ordered to mugs of ale and three shots from bartender and immediately threw back one. He listened as she explained how Gamlen had taken the money meant for her mother and then sold the house to slavers to pay off his debts.

“Mother wants to petition the Viscount to recognize our properties ‘as stated and intended’ in the will.”

“You don’t seem convinced.”

“I’m not. Mother will try to appeal to have our title and properties restored but then what? You saw the mansion. We’ve got no money to renovate, no connections to grow a business, and no sway with the nobility. We’re mud covered Fereldan trash and having the Viscount say otherwise won’t change anything.”

Sebastian took another pull from his mug. A chunk of crystalized honey hit his lips and he spat it out. Beside them, a woman with a swollen belly was offering services to a tipsy sailor. The air stank like mud from the peat hearths. This was about as far from the royal palace of Starkhaven as he could be. He tried to imagine Mallory wearing one of Flora’s dresses or learning to joust by the same strict rules of the tourney’s Brett rode in. And what about Bethany’s little secret?

“What about a position in the militia?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Commission for officers are more or less reserved for nobility. A few common born occasionally get in on merit but having Viscount vouch for you as the heir to one of the ancestral houses of Kirkwall would go a long way to getting you an officer’s salary. You could fix up the mansion. You said you have no connections but you know the Harriman’s well enough, and me. Dumar, Harriman, and Amell are all names with a lot of weight in this city. If you weren’t a ‘mud covered Fereldan’ but ‘Lieutenant Amell who learned to fight with the Southern barbarians’ the nobility would love you.”

Hawke gave him a surprised look. “That’s a lot of if’s.”

He shrugged. “Nobles are nobles. My brother Callum used to spin three different versions of his weekend escapades just to watch the gossips fight it out over themselves.”

She smiled for half a second. “Well I can hardly seek a commission while babysitting you all day, can I?”

He winced. She was right.

“But…”

“But what, Hawke?”

“But if you were no longer in danger, I could. And you’d no longer be in danger which would be a good thing.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we should figure out who killed your family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in one hour because I realized it was Wednesday and I needed to stick to my schedule aaaaaaaaaah


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Hawke’s best hopes, it turned out hunting down a band of international political assassins was rather difficult. Rumors had swirled when it first occurred and they had only matured in the six months since his family’s deaths. He personally dismissed only notion that the Antivan Crows were involved. It had been too sloppy for experts like them. His money was on a mercenary band. One of the dozens that roamed the Marches looking for any business that could be sent their way.

Hawke agreed when she read over his copy of the Guard’s report. She didn’t ask him any questions personally but he volunteered a little information. He was more surprised by how much it _didn’t’_ hurt than how much it did. He had been safely tucked away in the Kirkwall Chantry when the news arrived. Mother Elthina sat down with him after morning recitations and broke the news quickly but not cruelly. He had wept then but now he just felt…empty. And then concerned that he didn’t feel more for the deaths of his brothers and parents.

Hawke had referenced ‘subtle questions’ posed to various people but he could tell she was growing frustrated with their lack of progress. He could see it more clearly than ever tonight, at Lady Krenshaw’s Equinox ball.

“Try to smile, Hawke.” He teased her. “Or at least not look like your resisting the urge to light something on fire.”

“There is way too much unnecessary fabric here.” She growled under her breath. “It could use a good burning. There are people freezing in Darktown.”

“And if it burned the city weavers would be working overtime to supply new finery, rather than clothing the needy.”

She snorted. He took another sip from his wine flute and began to peruse the hall for another conversation partner. Flora was tittering away with her friends. Brett was sulking in a corner with an equally sullen and withdrawn noble son. Johane was dancing with her father on the floor and he was having a hard time placing names to faces with the rest of the attendees.

He finally spotted Ser Roget and his put upon son Timmeth lingering near the drinks table. He set off across the crowded room towards the newly retired Templar. Vibrant greens were in this spring for the dresses and it made him feel a bit like walking through an overgrown thicket of limbs, walking skirts and waistcoats blur past. Occasionally, a bit of more muted color would stand out. Pastels were the new trend in servant’s uniforms in Orlais, something about them blending in while still showing the wealth of their employers. In the stone and gilding halls here, though, they just stuck out like a sore thumb.

Hawke caught a tipsy couple careening towards them before they could collide. She righted them and sent them back on their way with a brusque nod then resumed her position at his shoulder. The Fereldan took her position as bodyguard seriously. She had looked at him like he was joking when he mentioned the new Harimman servant uniform of lilac and umber. He had to agree. After a bit of convincing, Lady Johane agreed that since Hawke was actually paid though his family’s stipend, he could determine her uniform. Her formal wear consisted of muted greys and with a few red accents, much better suited to her.

Roget watched them approach without any sign of recognition but his son looked immensely relieved. Sebastian severely doubted that many attendees wanted to interrupt the festivities to make small talk with an old man who couldn’t remember what year it was.

“Brother Sebastian,” Timmeth greeted them. “what a pleasure to see you. Father, do you remember the Brother?”

“My brother? Yes, where is Garryn. It thought I just saw him.” He craned his neck to look about the room.

Timmeth’s mouth drew tight. “Uncle isn’t here tonight, Father. This is Sebastian Vael and, pardon me asking but…”

“Mallory Amell.” Hawke gave a have bow.

“Amell, eh?” Roget chuckled. “A Vael would be a good match for you young lady but don’t think I don’t realize what Aristides is doing.  You know I see your sister quite often. Garryn might think she’s a lovely as a spring morning but I fear she’s got her eye on one of my cadets! Ser Maurevar has a wife, I will have you know.” He laughed again and peered around the party peacefully.

Timmeth looked to them apologetically. “He was doing much better earlier-”

“Though that does remind me.” Ser Roget interrupted. “Ser Maurevar was telling me about something one of the Tranquil said earlier today- no, it wasn’t today was it?”

Sebastian tried to concoct a gracious way to extricate them from the conversation. Ser Roget continued on with his story, something about a dispute between one of the Tranquil and a customer. Lady Ramona drifted over to their circle and listened to the story with a mild interest. Sebastian was surprised to actually find himself intrigued. I wouldn’t have assumed so much humor could come from a seemingly mundane interaction.

Ser Roget’s story ended and quickly transitioned into a new story regarding a missing pair of boots. Then the tale of how he and Ser Maurevar found themselves tracking a mage for three weeks through the Sundermount forest only to find that it had been a trap set up my Templar’s from Ostwick.

“…at which Carver just grabs the reins from the Knight Captain and rode off before they could stop him!” The crowd chuckled. There were even a few genuine guffaws. “She was left staring at her hand as if she couldn’t quite believe what happened. I could hardly believe it myself. Of course I had to smooth things over between our Circles without his help.”

The old Templar seemed almost well again. His face lit up and he seemed more than comfortable working with a rapt audience. Sebastian supposed it was easier for him to keep track of what he could remember rather than try to work around what he couldn’t. He turned to Hawke to ask her something and forgot his question as soon as he saw her face.

Her eyebrows were arched high and her eyes were wide. It could be a mimicry of interest but she seemed far too vulnerable to even be the same woman he walked into the party with. She noticed him staring and her face shifted back to the usual half-frown she wore.

“Is there something the matter?”

“No, never mind.”

They returned to the Harriman estate late. Brett had an excellent night and detoured to the Blooming Rose before Sebastian could catch him. They spent nearly an hour awkwardly asking after him before finding him in one of the side rooms with a cask of ale. The quiet of his guest quarters was a welcome respite.

“You seemed surprisingly undeterred by the professionals of the Rose,” said Hawke. “at least for a Chantry brother.”

“I was not born in the Chantry. I lived quite a bit before finding my peace.”

Hawke cocked her head slightly but her expression didn’t change.

“Are you alright?” He asked her. “You’ve seemed distracted by something tonight.”

“I am still focused on my job.”

“I have no doubt that if any of the ‘professionals’ tried to make a different sort of move towards me you would have reacted with all haste but my question stands.”

“Don’t underestimate whores. They’re used to doing less than scrupulous work for money.”

“Hawke…”

“I was unsettled by Ser Roget.” She said each word sharply, like it was a nuisance to get out.

“Because your father was a mage.”

He had never acknowledged the most salacious of the Amell family rumors. After the words left his mouth he wished he could go back to that. Hawke’s face went from professional disinterested to hardened soldier in a second. Her eyes focused in on him like that of a real hawk. They were the most strikingly blue eyes he had seen in a long time but did not care for them staring at him like that.

“My father was indeed a mage. One who left the Gallows despite Ser Roget’s devotion to the Chantry’s laws. I’m sure your gracious hosts have quite a lot to say about that but I do not. If that is all, ser?”

Well, she could hardly get angrier with him. “You mentioned your brother before.”

“He is also dead. Is this the topic of conversation for tonight?”

“You said his name was Carver. Ser Roget also mentioned a Carver.”

Hawke blew a breath of air out her nose. It might have been a laugh but it reminded Sebastian more of an irritate bull. “And your unasked question is if there is a connection. Ser Maurevar Carver was the Templar who helped my father escape. I doubt Ser Roget would speak so kindly of him if he knew that.”

She gave him a short bow that stank of sarcasm and left for her attached rooms. The following morning he realized just how much she had warmed up to him before it was gone. ‘Professional’ now described Mallory Hawke as if she was nothing else. The nagging fear of her knife in the dark from his bodyguard returned.


End file.
